


Orbiting Disaster

by Fox_the_Hermit



Series: Plot the trajectory, and pray for a miracle [1]
Category: Bleach, Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Dimension Travel, Electrocution, Gen, Hagfish (Dishonored), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, Rats (Dishonored), Temporary Character Death, time loops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_the_Hermit/pseuds/Fox_the_Hermit
Summary: Usually, time is never on their side. They're always racing against it, always trying to outrun whatever disaster it's promising to unleash. Except now, time is on their side - but nothing else is. There is no rescue, no help they can get - only an infinite number of attempts.Ichigo isn't sure he should be as happy about it as he is.[No knowledge of the Dishonored franchise necessary.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS - this story will contain time travel and time loops. So, the beginning may be dark... but a happy ending isn't out of the question.

The smell of something old, musty, stale, and the distinct stench of something _rotten_ is what hits him first. Ichigo’s eyes snap open. He squints in confusion at his surroundings, from where he is… sitting in an armchair? Slowly, he looks around. He’s in a room, obviously. Judging by the chairs and couch arranged in a semi-circle around the fireplace (except for his, far away and right by the boarded-up window), the cupboards, and the bookshelves standing against the walls, it’s a living room. But the shelves and the things on them are covered in dust, the walls are cracked and the wallpaper is peeling off, the windows boarded, and the _smell_ … He restrains the urge to retch. It’s strange, that the place is so old, so abandoned, so dirty.

Zangetsu is propped against the side of the armchair, in the usual sheath. Standing up, Ichigo slings it over his back as usual. Now that he can see over the backs of the other armchairs, he realises four are occupied. Creeping forwards, taking care not to make too much noise, he walks over to see who it is, and hisses in surprise.

They seem to be sleeping, all of them: Yuzu, Karin, Orihime, Rukia. However, before he can call out, or move closer, or do anything at all, they start to stir.

“Onii-chan? Where are we?” Yuzu’s voice is quiet and muffled with drowsiness. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear her head. “What is this horrible smell?”

“I don’t know,” Ichigo admits, frowning. “I woke up seconds before you did, I have no idea where we are yet.”

He walks over to the window to wrench off the boards covering it, leaving the girls to clear their heads. The wood is dry, splintering apart in his hands when he tries to pull the boards off. It’s easy to just break them with one light punch, and soon enough he’s sliding the opaque window pane open.

Rukia comes over just as he manages it, and both of them stare out at the view.

The glinting expanse of the river one street over from theirs catches Ichigo’s eye first. Then he see the edges of the sidewalk, leading out to the docs, and the other half of the city across the river. The sky is stained orange and grey by the sun, but Ichigo has no way of knowing if the sun is setting or rising. His watch is useless for helping figure that out, something tells him, and they’ll just have to wait and see.

The buildings, the colours, the skyline… Nothing looks remotely like Karakura, or any other place Ichigo has ever seen.

“Kurosaki-kun, where are we?” Orihime asks, worry threading her voice.

Ichigo and Rukia exchange glances, unsure of quite how to answer that.

“We… we’re not in Karakura anymore. I have no idea where we are,” Ichigo says honestly, turning back to squint at the city.

It’s quiet, he realises. Far too quiet, for any kind of city, at any time of day except perhaps the dead of night. There’s no people in the street under the window, and _maybe_ it’s just _this_ street, but Ichigo doubts that. There’s no birds that he can hear, no distant sound of voices or traffic or _anything._ Just the distant rustling of wind, but nothing more.

Rukia looks just as troubled as he feels.

“There’s no reiatsu signatures nearby, not even humans, I don’t-“ She breaks off, frowning at something. Ichigo curses his lack of reiatsu sensing skills. It’s been four years since he first got shinigami powers, he should be able to do this by now, but nope, he can’t. “No, wait. I can sense Urahara-san, Yoruichi-san, and their two children _somewhere_ close. And your father, he’s… downstairs, apparently.”

“Then I guess we should go meet up with Urahara-san’s group. If they’re also here, then maybe they know what’s going on. I-“ Ichigo shakes his head, trying to clear it of the residual fog of unconsciousness. “What were we doing before we woke up here?”

“Last thing I remember is dinner at your house, Kurosaki-kun,” Orihime bites her lip. “And everything was normal. I can’t remember anything strange happening. Does anyone remember more?”

No one speaks up, and Ichigo sighs quietly. Of course his life couldn’t be as neat and simple as someone remembering what happened, and somebody else knowing how to reverse it.

“I guess we should go check on Goat-face, then, and get moving.” The back of Ichigo’s neck prickles, like he’s being _watched_ , and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t think we should stay in this place. Rukia, Orihime – stay on your guard, I have a _really_ bad feeling about this.”

The two nod back at him.

The door of the room crumbles at his touch. Ichigo gingerly walks down the hall and to the staircase, half-expecting it all to give out under his feet, disintegrating to dust.

However, the stairs are in better shape than he expects them to be, and despite the endless creaks and groans of protest, do not collapse under everyone’s weight. The stench of rot recedes as they go down, so, well, at least there’s already one plus in Ichigo’s book. The door to the closest room looks pretty solid too, and swings open with a loud squelch when Ichigo pulls on the door handle, instead of splintering.

The room is clearly a kitchen, what with the dark, stained stove and wooden cupboards. Ichigo sees his father slumped over the table, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Probably only just woke up.

Typical. Probably hasn’t even realised it isn’t their kitchen, despite the fact that everything is covered in dust, the wallpaper is peeling, and most importantly, the place neither _looks_ nor _smells_ like their actual kitchen.

“Oi, Goat-face. You noticed we’re not in Karakura yet, or are you too busy sleeping?”

His father looks up at him in confusion, then shakes his head and looks around in clear surprise.

“Eh? What’s happened to our house?”

Ichigo can _hear_ Karin roll her eyes behind him.

“We don’t know. Which is why we’re going to go meet up with Urahara-san. Rukia can sense that he’s somewhere nearby.”

For a second, his father’s face contorts to show annoyance and disappointment, that then vanishes again.

“Haven’t you thought of asking your own father first? Why is seeking your wise parent’s council not your first course of action?” he wails loudly.

The temptation to roll his eyes along with Karin is strong, but Ichigo restrains himself. They might get stuck like that if he does it too much, and his idiot father isn’t worth that kind of stupid inconvenience.

“Well, fine, what’s your opinion of this?”

Isshin blinks, and pauses, thinking, with his gaping mouth open. “Er, I don’t know.”

“That’s what I thought, which is _why I didn’t bother to ask you_. Come on, let’s find Urahara-san.”

Evidently, that’s the wrong thing to say. Isshin immediately turns to the nearest wall and starts to wail, _again_.

“My own son values the opinion of some shady stranger over me! Oh Masaki, my beloved, as  my children have clearly outgrown their need of me, I will soon be joining you in death! Wait for me, my love!”

Melodramatic, much? And wow, so rude to Urahara, who’s been almost nothing but helpful in the last four years.

Ichigo groans quietly, and retreats back to the hallway to look for the exit.

Curiously, the door leading to the street is bolted shut from the inside. It’s as though the residents had never left the house, even though the decrepit state of the place shows otherwise, and there is no sign of, human presence, recent or otherwise. However, he can’t say he really wants to ponder _that_ mystery very much. Not with the lingering smell of rot that must have been coming from upstairs.

After a few seconds of pulling at it, the bolt comes loose. The door swings open, rusted hinges screeching in the quiet. Rukia pushes past him, to lead the group.

The street is still deserted. Ichigo notices with unease that the windows of all the houses that they pass are _all_ dark. Many of them boarded up, too. What kind of freaky ghost town is this? The houses are _old_ , crumbling, shop display windows either opaque with dust, or shattered. The architecture is unfamiliar, too.

He can sense Urahara’s and Yoruichi’s reiatsu, now that they’re close enough that the effect of them having muted it is not quite as effective. They are gradually getting closer, too.

The heavy atmosphere of the deserted streets presses down on them like gravity. Wary, watchful silence reigns over the group; all of Yuzu’s attempts at starting up a conversation had sputtered out like candles in a strong wind.

Ichigo finds that his hand keeps drifting to Zangetsu’s hilt, even without any _clear_ reason to be wary. Well, a reason other than being trapped in a deserted city he’s never seen before, unable to remember how he even got there. Which, to be fair, _is_ a rather good reason to be tense. Even for him, this is an _odd_ situation.

He registers a strange sound. Ichigo spins around, looking at the shadowed alley they just passed, to see a strange creature emerge from the darkness. It’s tall, maybe twice as tall as he is. Vaguely humanoid, with arm-like appendages ending in spikes, and seems to be made entirely out of strange, twisted stone. Its face, or at least what Ichigo presumes to be its face from the two,vaguely eye-shaped glowing spots, is turned to the group. It moves slowly, every jerky, strange movement of its arms punctuated by the sound of grinding stone. A trail of glowing spark is left hanging in the air behind it as it approached.

Ichigo draws his sword. Rukia does the same.

The thing doesn’t seem to be malicious, Ichigo thinks, watching it. It moves slowly, so it shouldn’t be hard to fight against, though of course appearance can be extremely deceptive...

It lunges. Much faster than Ichigo thought it would be able to.

Rukia shouts an incantation, throwing out her hand. Nothing happens. It’s only Zangetsu rising in the spike’s path that saves her from being pierced. The creature moves to strike with its other arm. Both of them have to dodge, now. Ichigo jumps back, before stepping to the side and forward, sword raised with intent to skewer the thing through the chest.

He swings his sword. Zangetsu bounces off the rock, instead of cutting through it, the impact jarring Ichigo’s arm painfully. He moves back immediately, out of reach, trying to think of a plan.

Rukia leaps forward, swinging her sword to strike at a crack in one of the arms-

A scream pierces the air, followed by a sickening cracking and squelching sound. Ichigo spins around, to see Yuzu, who had backed away from the fighting, skewered on the arm of another monster. It shakes its arm. Yuzu slides off, leaving a bloody trail on the spike, and falls to the ground.

No.

It can’t be.

Not Yuzu. Not like- not like this.

Ichigo stares, frozen, as the creature turns. It lunges again, going after him with the same stabbing motion as the other had, the blood coated spike reaching for his chest. All Ichigo can think of is Yuzu, lying on the ground in a growing pool of blood from the hole in her chest. Dying. Dead?

A green blur moves between the creature and Ichigo, the spike aiming to kill him, deflected by a sword. It’s Urahara.

Within a second, Urahara is moving again, dodging the creature’s other arm. He leaps up and using the flat edge of the spike as an impromptu platform, stabbing Benihime through one of the glowing eyes. He pulls her out, as the thing staggers, and then stabs the creature through the neck at such an angle that the sword sinks into its chest. Light runs through the cracks and joins. The monster freezes. Then Ichigo is being pushed down to the ground, right before the thing _explodes_ into light..

Shards of rock rain down around them, Urahara shielding Ichigo from the worst of it.

Another explosion sounds from behind them. The other monster must have been felled too.

Dazed, Ichigo tries to think. That happened _so fast_ , everything... _Yuzu.._

He scrambles to his feet, and runs to where his sister had fallen.

Orihime is standing over her, trying to heal her. The golden aura fails to form around the body, dissipating in golden sparks. There’s only one reason for that, he know. It’s too late.

Ichigo knew that. From the second he saw where the injury was, he knew that the spike must have gone right through her heart. He’s still shocked to see Yuzu just _lying there_. Pale. Motionless. Dead.

His knees buckle, but he manages stay standing, propping himself up with Zangetsu. Distantly, he can hear screaming. Karin. His father too, probably.

“I’m so sorry Kurosaki-kun, I can’t- I can’t help her.” Orihime’s sounds like she’s speaking from very far away, voice muted, and-

Ichigo tries to take a deep breath. Then another. And then another.

She’s… she’s dead. And that really hurts. But there’s no way to know how many more of these things are out there. No way to know if they will get attacked again any moment now. He has to focus. If he wants... if he wants everyone else to live, _he has to focus_. There’s no time to grieve.

Ichigo makes himself turns away from Yuzu to look at the rest of the group. Rukia and Yoruichi are holding back a crying Karin, whispering something to her. Isshin is standing, expression frozen in horror, staring at where Yuzu’s corpse lies. Ururu and Jinta are standing nearby, watching, wide-eyed, afraid. Must have come with Yoruichi and Urahara.

“We have to leave here, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara murmurs from behind him, only barely audible. “The sounds of fighting might have drawn the attention of more monsters. We already fought one of them on our way here, as it was. We have to leave, or we risk having to fight. And neither shunpo, nor our Zanpakuto, not even kidou seems to function here. We have reiatsu, we can still sense it… we just can’t use it, apparently. Combat is too risky. _We have to leave._ ”

“Yeah, I… I get it. Do you have any idea where we should go, or…”

“We should keep moving as quickly and quietly as we can, I think. See if we can find a different district, a district with _people_ . There’s some very faint signs of _something_ from further away.” He frowns, staring at the shards of rock that used to make up the monster. “Perhaps nothing has a _lot_ of reiatsu here. These things certainly did not have so much as a trace. Faint signs may mean much more here than they do back home.”

Ichigo nods absently. It’s hard to think, hard to not remember Yuzu’s scream, her face… But he has to.

“Kurosaki-san, I am so sorry we didn’t get here faster. I am _so sorry_ ,” Urahara whispers.  

“You couldn’t have known we’d run into a monster, Urahara-san. Not your fault. Let’s- let’s just keep moving.”

Urahara hums his assent, and starts moving down the street that Ichigo’s group came from. He gestures at the others to follow them. Ururu and Jinta hurry forwards to catch up to him, to stay as close behind him as they can, heads turning warily to stare in every direction.

Right. They were attacked, too. And now, they must be… they must be really afraid.

Ichigo hangs back, letting the others go in front. He can keep any eye on them that way, see if there’s anything coming from the alleys they pass. Protect them from any more monsters.

Rukia has to pull Karin along with her. Karin who’s staring past Ichigo, at where... where...

He can’t think of that. Not now.

Vaguely, he sees Orihime join the two, whispering something that makes Karin nod, and wipe her with her sleeve.

Yoruichi joins him at the back of the group, staring at him in vague concern, but not saying anything. Ichigo is grateful for that. He doesn’t want to talk, to admit anything happened, anything changed.

He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t think he could leave if he does.

Instead, he simply stares at the houses in their street, at the haps between them, and try as he might, after a while, all the houses start to look the same.

They’re not, he knows, that but they blur. They all have old cracked stone and faded signs and dark windows, all of them are empty and abandoned, closed doors everywhere. There’s no more monsters emerging from the shadows, no more attacks, but he can’t help staring at every alleyway they pass. Can’t stop twitching every time a cobblestone cracks or shifts under someone’s foot. Can’t bring himself to take his hand of Zangetsu’s hilt.

Quiet whispering reaches his ears, but none of it registers as words.

It’s getting darker, Ichigo realises. The sun is setting, the sky turning darker, which bodes ill for them. None of the street lamps are working, from what Ichigo can see. They won’t be able to continue walking. Probably won’t be long before it will be too dark to see, and then it would be far, far too easy to be ambushed.

Doubtlessly, the same thought must have occurred to Urahara. Paying more attention to him, Ichigo realises that the man has been carefully scrutinising the buildings they’ve been passing, slowly, very slightly turning his head from side to side, occasionally slowing down just a little as a detail catches his eye. Of course. They technically already _have_ shelter available to them. They can keep walking until the sun sets, and then go into _any_ of the nearby buildings.

Ichigo halts, abruptly, jolted out of his thoughts. The streetlamps...

Earlier, when they had all been _off_ , even as the sky darkened. Now, they’re glowing with light. And, actually, the houses look in much better repair. Even if all the windows are dark, and there’s still no sign of people, the houses don’t have broken windows or dirty falls. Maybe they’ll even have electricity, if the street lamps are any indication of the general state of repair.

They walk for a while longer, the sky getting darker and darker, until the last hints of sunlight fade. Urahara pauses in front of one of the houses, staring at it consideringly.

“He thinks we should stay here for the night.” Ichigo’s quite forgotten that Yoruichi was walking right next to him, and her voice takes him by surprise. She frowns, staring at the building, eyes skimming over it. “Why… ah, the window.”

Indeed, there’s a half-open window on the first floor.

“Why’s that important?”

“If the door’s locked, he’ll be able to climb into the house through it, and open the door from the inside, if the key is inside, or it’s just bolted shut. No use breaking the door down and destroying a barrier from potential threats, never mind giving away that someone’s been here.”

Well, that makes sense.

The door does turn out to be locked. Ichigo watches Urahara scale the wall, using the ridges and decorative lines as handholds, until he reaches the window, and climbs in.

A second later, a light flickers on for a moment in that window, and the neighbouring one on the left, before going out.

Electricity must be working, as he guessed.

A short while later, the door swings open with a quiet creak, admitting them inside. Ichigo, the last to go in, is greeted with a hallway illuminated by several small light fixtures on the walls.

He shuts and bolts the door behind him the door, noting that there’s no sign of ageing on either the wood or metal, unlike in the last house they were in, despite both places being apparently devoid of inhabitants.

“The electricity is working, but I wouldn’t recommend turning on any lights that would be visible from the windows. Draw the curtains if you must switch the lights on, but the less attention we attract, the better,” Urahara murmurs to the group. “I saw fresh-looking fruit bowls with fruit around the place, but I would advise being cautious. There might be preserved foods in the kitchen. That should be... safer... to eat. I suggest you all share rooms when you pick a place to sleep, and that we all take turns keeping watch over the entire house during the night.”

No one disagrees, and people wander off to explore the house.

Ichigo lingers by the door, lost in thought. It takes Urahara quietly calling his name for Ichigo to notice that everyone has left, and not only left, but looked through the house briefly, and decided to congregate in the kitchen. Ichigo is startled to realise that he’s hungry too. But then, it has been a long evening, and they’ve been walking for a while. Still, it’s strange that something so simple, so ordinary, still matters.

The kitchen is well-stocked, it turns out. There’s bread and fruit that don’t look or smell remotely stale. There’s ting of fish, whale meat, and preserved fruit, too, the labels written in English, of all languages. The tap in the kitchen works, but none of them feel like risking drinking from it, not quite yet. Not when they have found bottled water and fruit soda - Padilla Pear Soda, apparently, although Ichigo has never heard of such a place.

Karin doesn’t eat much of what’s offered, Ichigo notices. He can’t blame her. Not when his own memories are still so _vivid_ , no matter how much he tries to repress them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Urahara watching him from under the brim of his hat, his expression unusually serious. Even worried, maybe. For Ichigo?

The house has three floors, with the upstairs floors hosting study, a living room, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. Electricity and water works everywhere, and there’s no sign of the place being derelict... There’s also no sign of where the residents could have gone.  

Slowly, everyone disperses to various rooms. Ichigo takes the small study with the one single couch in it. The room is a tad creepy, dried insects in glass cases standing on the floor by the walls, and attached to the walls. What looks like some sort of laboratory is set up on the table, too, but the light that shines through the closed window is dim enough to obscure the details, and Ichigo can’t care for more than that.

His father offers to take first watch, which does nothing to put Ichigo at ease. Knowing him, he’d fall asleep and miss a whole horde of monsters walking upstairs. He tosses and turns on the surprisingly soft, comfortable couch (had the owner spent a lot of nights working late, late enough to not bother leaving the office and needing to sleep on the couch instead?), listening for any strange creaks, for the sound of grinding stone. Zangetsu lies on the floor right by the couch, within easy reach.

Every once in a while, he hears the wooden floor outside creak. Goat-face, pacing around the place to stay awake.

It’s hard to remain alert for long, however. The silence and darkness and exhaustion cause everything to fade, become distant, make his thoughts slow and stop, dulling even the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty and repressed grief. Maybe he can sleep, now, even with… remembering everything that had happened earlier… Subconsciously, he’s counting Isshin’s pacing now. It’s regular, far more than he expected (but then, he had been a gotei captain once, hadn’t he? He had to have some sort of discipline somewhere in him) and it lulls him further to sleep.

His eyes fly open, and he’s not sure what startled him. There doesn’t seem to be any noise, any disturbance, nothing seems to have changed, and yet...

The counting. The pause is too long, too irregular. And he can’t feel the faint reiatsu of his father anymore. Though, of course, Isshin might have muffled it on purpose, to avoid attracting attention… But why would he do that even more than he already _had_ , before everyone else had gone to bed?

It could be nothing. Maybe he decided to sit down, or someone’s taking over for him and walking too quietly. Or in a different rhythm, different pattern. His father’s reiatsu might be muted to nothing because he’s asleep. Could be nothing at all.

Or it could be something.

Giving up on trying to relax, Ichigo rolls of the couch and picks up Zangetsu. Creeping through the house as quietly as possible – the girls are sound sleepers, but he expects that Yoruichi and Urahara aren’t – he checks the upstairs floor, first.

As he walks, one of the doors swings open. He’s about to relax, when he sees Yoruichi creeping out of it, looking around and frowning.

They stare at each other. Then Yoruichi taps an ear, gestures around, and makes a ‘No’ sign, while raising her eyebrows questioningly. Ichigo shakes his head, and shivers slightly. For _both_ of them to have noticed that something’s off… She walks over to him, and he notices that she’s holding a long iron poker in her hand.

Isshin isn’t in any of the room on the first or second floor, and neither is he in the kitchen – but the door to the street is bolted shut from the inside.

Ichigo frowns, as he registers some sort of noise. He can’t tell where it’s coming from, what it is, it’s too muffled…

Yoruichi taps him on the arm, and point to the dark space behind the stairwell, formerly occupied by crates. _Formerly_ , because they’ve been moved away to reveal a solid metal door.

They both have to lean against it to push it open. The door much heavier than he expected. Grudgingly, it swings open with a long, drawn-out groan to reveal a staircase leading downwards, lit by faltering electrical lights set into the ceiling.

The muffled sound is no longer muffled. Something’s _moving_ in the room the staircase leads to. There’s squeaks and hissing and strange tearing sounds, and there is a strong smell of decay and _blood_.

“Goat-face?” Ichigo calls. The sounds stop for a second before resuming, but now with the addition of strange _skittering_ added to them.

Ichigo walks forward, Zangetsu held at the ready.

When he gets to the bottom and looks into the room proper, he almost screams. Yoruichi sucks in a shuddery breath behind him.

A massive swarm of rats is congregated around a body, writhing like a nest of serpents, squeaking and fighting in their efforts to get at the gruesome feast.

His stomach rebels at the sight of the mass of bloodstained, feasting rodents, the stench of death, the sounds of tearing _flesh,_ and it’s all he can do to not throw up then and there.

The rats notice them too, and half the swarm detaches from the body to rush at them.

Ichigo reacts without thinking, slashing at the grey tide with Zangetsu, cleaving through several at a time. Bits of rodent and splatters of blood fly everywhere and distract the living rats that are too frenzied to realise that it’s their own brethren that they’re feasting on, not intruders. Behind him, Yoruichi stands ready with the poker, beating back any rat that gets past Zangetsu, smashing their heads in with perfect precision. The sounds, the smells, are absolutely _disgusting_ , but Ichigo is too busy whacking at the rats to process them fully.

The rest of the swarm, noticing the deaths of their fellows, rushes at them, but with no more success; their mindless rush forward leads them to very, very quick and messy deaths.

It feels like mere seconds later that the cellar falls silent, floor covered in dead, dismembered rats. Blood seeps into the soles of Ichigo’s shoes.

Ichigo’s stomach makes its displeasure known again, and he has to stagger to the corner of the room to throw up, the smell of the rats, of the corpse, just _too much_.

The taste in his mouth is horrid, and he almost retches again, just from that.

“It’s him.” Yoruichi’s voice breaks the short-lived silence. “His clothes, even if torn to shreds. Stupid idiot… should have gotten someone else to go with him. I’m sorry.”

Numbly, Ichigo nods.

First Yuzu. Now Goat-face.

It... it has to be a nightmare. _Just a nightmare._

It can’t be real. It _can’t be._

“I’ll go tell Kisuke. I don’t… I can go wake the others to tell them, if you’d rather not say it yourself?” Yoruichi asks, her voice quiet, steady.

“This… this can’t be real, it’s got to be- some sort of nightmare, some sort of illusion, right?” His voice is hoarse, grating. Too loud. “This… this can’t be it. They can’t be gone, just like that. Not Yuzu. Not my father, even if he… even if he is an idiot.”

He can’t help staring at the corpse. The skin and most the clothe, are gone, the rats having torn everything apart almost to the bones. The floor is stained with blood, shreds of flesh and viscera everywhere. But it can’t be real. No matter what his senses are telling him.

“Let’s go upstairs. Don’t look anymore. It won’t help you.”

It’s oddly easy, to follow such clear instructions. To go upstairs, leaving bloody footprints on the floor behind him. Leave behind the remains.

Yoruichi shuts the heavy door behind them with a loud clang, then hurrying upstairs. To go wake the others. To tell them what happened.

Ichigo stumbles to the nearest bathroom to rinse his mouth, to wash his face with cold water. To try to _focus_.

They have to get out of the city. Somehow. Soon. Before anyone dies in another unfortuante accident like that, to another unexpected danger lurking in the shadows.

There’s footsteps, someone coming up from behind and hugging him.

He turns around to see Karin, her face red from crying. Wordlessly, he pulls her closer.

Yuzu. Their father. Gone.

Gone, just like that.

It’s not fair. It’s so not fair.

It takes him a while to realise that he, too, is crying.


	2. Chapter 2

Kisuke drums out nonsensical patterns on the tabletop, trying to think.

This place, this city, it’s not like anywhere he’s been before. The sheer scale of its apparent abandonment… How could a whole city be completely deserted, as it seems to be, and entirely forgotten, unmentioned, not known even as a _ghost story_? The monsters prowling through the streets, unlike anything he’s ever seen (and he’s seen a lot of things even Shinigami would be hard-pressed to believe), ever even _heard_ of. Worse, the labels on the food and drinks. Labels that reference brands and places that are _completely_ _unfamiliar_.

Nothing adds up. Or at least, it doesn’t add up to anything he’d be _fine_ with it adding up to. Which is, of course, a different problem than if he couldn’t arrive at _any conclusion whatsoever._ Denying facts is not a hobby of his. He can’t just _ignore_ it. He frowns, thumbing through the books in the study. “ _Bloodfly anatomy_ ”. “ _History of the bloodflies in Serkonos_ ”. “ _History of Karnaca_ ”.

There are too many clues, too many signs to ignore, all leading to a clear and extraordinarily unwelcome conclusion.

They’re in a different _world_. A new, completely different dimension.

It’s not an illusion. He’s sure of it. There’s something far too viscerally real about the darkness, the danger permeating the place.

And he has _no idea_ how they got here. Or, much more importantly, how to get out. There was no breach that he could remember, no signs, no anything. Simply waking up in that dusty, abandoned parlour with Yoruichi and the children.

He snaps shut the next book, _“Records of the condemned houses of Cullero_ ”, the spine of the book cracking in protest at the undeservedly rough treatment. None of the titles happen to oh so _conveniently_ be about dimensional rifts, or stone monsters, or rats. Whoever the previous resident was, they were clearly a scientist - but a researcher of _bloodflies_ , not _spatio-temporal phenomena_. Well, at least he now knows to avoid those nests and buzzing, even if the descriptions and illustrations of the _nest keepers_ are... disturbing enough, that he sincerely hopes they were over exaggerated.

Grimacing, he looks outside, where the sky is growing steadily lighter.

It was decided to wait until morning to move out of the house, when it would be much easier to see, _maybe_ less likely for them to be ambushed, and when they would all, theoretically, be better rested. Although, Kisuke doubts _very much_ that most of the others are sleeping. Not after Yoruichi came upstairs and woke them up to share the news that Kurosaki Isshin was torn apart by rats in the concealed cellar, that he just _had to_ investigate by himself.

Ichigo and his sister definitely aren’t sleeping, Kisuke knows. Not after losing two members of their family in less than a day. Kuchiki-san and Inoue-san maybe. Possibly his own kids, who haven’t known the two casualties of the last day very well.

He shudders. If things go even _worse_ than they already have, they could get hurt, too. After everything he did to make sure Aizen would never even think of touching them, that they weren’t important enough for him to care about, a sheer stroke of bad luck could get to them now.

“So. What are you thinking of?”

Kisuke turns around just in time to catch the apple thrown at his head. It’s red, smooth, completely undamaged by age despite being in this house for hell knows how long. Or perhaps time doesn’t matter in this world. Who knows. It’s not like a whole district would just have been spontaneously abandoned by its inhabitants.

“Nothing very useful, I fear. I am almost certain, at least, that we are in a different world, but as to how we got here? How to leave?” He shrugs, and takes a bite out of the apple. It tastes fine. Fresh. He stares at it, and sighs. “Whoever owned this house was an entomologist, I am assuming. There’s research on insects called _bloodflies_.” He gestures vaguely at the cases of the dead insects around the room. “Those are some specimens, apparently from all over the isle of _Serkonos_. Apparently, they can infect humans and use them as incubators for their eggs, turning the infected into mindless drones. Then build nests in the corpses.”

Yoruichi makes a sound of disgust. “You _ass_ , you just ruined my appetite, _thank you_.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. At least we’ll know to kill them when we see them- though, apparently, if we stay calm and move slowly, we can skirt around their nests without suffering any harm whatsoever.”

“ _Nice to know_ , but I don’t think the Kurosakis would manage that. Regardless. Do you have any idea of where to go, what to do?”

No, he doesn’t. And she must know that already, from how he’s been pointedly avoiding the topic. He shakes his head. Turns away to look at the window again, so that he doesn’t have to meet her eyes.

He can hear her walk up to him, and then a small, gentle hand rests on his shoulder.

“Are you thinking that your mistakes make the world go round, again? Because they don’t, and you had literally _nothing_ to do with any of this. It’s not your _job_ to know everything, to fix it, to always provide the solution.”

Yes, he knows that. Mostly. Kind of. Maybe. A little bit. But it doesn’t help ease the tight knot in his chest, the quiet, insistent whispering in the back of his mind that if he’d been _faster_ , he could have saved the girl, if he’d gone through every _inch_ of the house before going to sleep, _he’d_ have been the one to find and fight the rats, not the elder Kurosaki.

“You’re doing that blaming-yourself-for-things-you-can’t-have-possibly-expected thing again, aren’t you. You aren’t omniscient. Stop _blaming_ yourself for not being superhuman, you damned idiot.”

She’s right, as she always is, and he lets out a slow breath. There’s no point about thinking of what-ifs. The present is what it is. He can’t change it. He can only try, try to do better in the future.

“I think, until we find a map of this place, it might be worthwhile to attempt make our own. This general area… it seems safe enough, as long as we watch out for any more rats, and if the neighbouring houses are as preserved as they seem, we may be able to find supplies there, too.”

Yoruichi hums thoughtfully. “You think we should stay here, or... no, use this as a base? Keep Jinta, Ururu, and the Kurosaki girl here, have two combat capable people stay here as guards, the rest go out as a team of three? That seems like a pretty sound plan to me, you know. Not like nothing.”

It’s not like there’s anything else they can do, and they both know it. Waiting for a rescue, when the only person who could probably find a way to bring them back is stuck there with them?

“It’s likely the whole street has water and electricity. I doubt the Kurosakis would want to stay here, not with... not with the corpse in the cellar. Besides, that might attract more rats. Best to find a new place today, as early as we can, and then start mapping the city.” He taps the table, again, and gnaws at his lip. “It’s strange. This scientist was studying infestations of bloodflies, there are dried insects on display, and more awaiting dissection here, on the table… but we haven’t seen any _around_ here. I’d say this is a city on the isle of Serkonos, and _yet._ And yet. There’s something _more_ to this place. And the rats, too. I didn’t, well, get _too_ close, and the stench was rather distracting, but there’s something _off_ about the dead rats the two of you dismembered. Best to not get bitten by them, I think.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong. They smelled weird, and they were… I don’t know. Big. Aggressive. To actually kill someone like Kurosaki, even if he was an idiot…” She shakes her head, her hair rustling far too loudly. Or maybe it’s just his hearing, alway too sensitive, not getting along very well the slowly building headache.  “Anyway, I found a couple of bags, should fit all the useful supplies we found here. The others are all up already. I’ve rationed out some food for them in the kitchen. We can go as soon as you’re done here.”

Well, he doubts very much that any of the _other_ books will be of more help than the ones he’s already skimmed through. Not much point in staying around.

He gives the room one last glance, looking for anything he might have missed in the last several hours, but finds nothing. Not that he expected to, anyway.

“I don’t think I can find anything useful here,” he admits. “Might as well go now.”

The crowd in the kitchen is quiet. The Kurosakis are pale and drawn, the girl leaning against Ichigo, staring emptily at a half-eaten pear.

Kisuke ignores the sharp pang of guilt, closing his eyes for a second, chasing away the quiet, vicious voice in the back of his mind that says that it’s his fault. There’s no time for that. Once they’re out of here, yes, he can waste his time on guilt and blame, but not before then.

The sun is still low in the sky, painting it pink and orange. It’s not quite as clear as yesterday, lazy clouds drifting across the sky, but they’re light and feathery and don’t look like they’re going to rain.

The street lamps are not yet out when they exit the house, and start walking down the street, looking for another house with a conveniently open window. Not like they have other criteria other than ‘easy to enter’ yet. Signs of forced entry might draw the attention of… anything that may still be inhabiting this city, and that doesn’t seem like a good idea.

It appears that the street they’re walking through is the main one, judging from how wide it is, how many of the buildings actually have _storefronts_ , abandoned though they may be, empty shelves visible through clear, _clean_ glass. Like everything was abandoned just a day or two ago.

Against the quiet of the city, unbroken by birds or even insects, no one seems willing to talk, and the silence stretches longer and longer. It’s unsettling, how _silent_ the city is here. Even if it makes it easier to listen for any noises that _shouldn’t_ be there.

The sun crawls across the sky, the shadows they cast slowly shortening.

The silence, the lack of action, the lack of _anything_ happening makes Kisuke’s attention drift. Theories about dimensional travel, thoughts about possible threats amble about sluggishly in his unfortunately sleep-deprived brain. The constant state of being wary, on-edge, wears him down far too fast without reiatsu to augment his physical capabilities and stamina, allowing him to persevere through much more than a normal person.

There’s too many variables, and he doesn’t know enough to... he doesn’t know enough to do anything, to predict encounters or threats, or…

Movement in the distance pulls him out of his musings.

Shapes are moving in the distance, huddling in the shadows of the buildings. Humanoid. Five of them.

There’s something distinctly wrong with how the human figures in the distance are moving. They’re slow, shambling, hunched over, and Kisuke readies himself for a fight, his grip on Benihime’s hilt shifting automatically. Appearances could be deceptive. One of the figures bends over, and starts vomiting. And, fair, Kisuke would usually think they were drunk, except something is telling him that it’s not that simple, that easy, that _harmless_. It’s something else. And it’s not his paranoia, either.

A light breeze blows from the direction of the figures, and Kisuke can smell blood. Blood and rot. Gagging sounds come from behind him, from someone in the group. Possibly his own kids, or maybe the younger Kurosaki.

He signals for everyone to stop, and turns around to face them.

“Whatever those people are, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get close to them,” he says, voice as quiet as he can make it, eyes scanning over the top of their heads, raking over the shadowy alley entrances. If there’s one group, there may be more. It may possibly be a trap, even, to see if they’d try to help them, and attack them from behind when they let their guard down.

It seems, however, that a confrontation with them is inevitable – if he can see them, they can see him, and the rest of the group. He, Yoruichi, Ichigo and Kuchiki-san can fight, with Inoue-san shielding the non-combat capable kids. Four against five, not necessarily bad odds.

The shambling figures are getting closer.

From this distance, he can now see them properly.

They look emaciated, dressed in ragged, ripped clothes, their faces grotesque in their hollowness. What is most disturbing, however, are the streaks of dried blood on their faces and clothes. Blood that has seemingly come from their _eyes._ Caused by some kind of illness, perhaps? Whatever the cause, it does not seem like something he wants to be personally acquainted with.

The stench of rot and blood intensifies, and Kisuke’s grip on Benihime’s hilt tightens involuntarily, before he forces his wrist to relax.

They’re probably not zombies. That would be ludicrous. Wouldn’t it?

…Granted, they have already been attacked by monsters made of stones, and a swarm of rats that could kill a person in _minutes_.

One of the figures lurches sideways, stumbling into the middle of the street. Kisuke tenses.

A loud metallic grinding shatters the peaceful morning. Something large and gleaming jumps, falls, from the top of the building under which the strange group is standing. It stills for a moment when it lands, and Kisuke can see it clearly.

It looks like a clockwork-style robot. Tall, with spindly legs and arms. Arms, of which it has _four_ , and all of which end in long blades, which doesn’t give Kisuke a very good feeling.

The stumbling humans hesitate for a second, and then lunge at it, trying to drag it down under their weight.

The clockwork moves much, _much_ faster than they do. Dodging their attacks with ease, it hacks at them with its blade. Within seconds, long, previously clean blades now gleam red. Five corpses, slices to shreds, their blood splattered everywhere, lie on the ground.

Its job done, the clockwork turns to stand with its back against the wall, head drooping forwards, and the light - an eye? a camera? - switching off.

He needs to think, decide, before anyone does, says, _anything_. He closes his eyes, letting his brain whirr into action, and everything _slows down_ until time feels like it’s almost suspended.

Well. Those clockworks are a _problem_.

How many of these things are around the place? From how well-maintained it looks, Kisuke would wager that there may well be more than several of them. The entire area is likely to be patrolled – that could very well be the cause for why the district is deserted. And why they, too, need to get out of it. Fast.

The clockwork may move quickly – but the joins between its torso and limbs seem weak, easy enough to break with a properly timed strike. And even its torso, covered in ceramic-like plating, has more than enough holes and joins that can be struck at. Theoretically, if he’s fast enough, there’s any number of ways to take one down. Precision strikes… He and Yoruichi could take one down, maybe two, even without being able to use shunpo and enhance speed with reiatsu, before needing a break.

But if they come in fours, or fives, if the sound of fighting attracts more of them… If they depowered wherever they killed last, they could be _anywhere._ Against a large number of them, they wouldn’t win. Wouldn’t be able to fight at that pace for long enough, not in their current state.

It was probably bouts of frankly _insanely_ good luck that kept them out of sight of the clockwork soldiers so far, but they couldn’t count on being so lucky forever. Then again, did two casualties in less than a day _actually count as luck_? There’s only so many unfortunate events that can happen in such a short period of time before it starts getting too ridiculous for even the universe to handle.

The people that were killed had stuck to the very walls of the buildings, and seemed to only have attracted attention when away from them. Thus, the clockworks must have limited vision and ability to discern moving objects. Okay. He can work with that. There’s no way to know how sensitive their hearing is, which is a problem, but one that can _likely_ be circumvented by simply being sufficiently stealthy.

He opens his eyes, and turns around, lowering his voice until it’s only _barely_ more than soundless.

“We _must_ get out of this district. It’s impossible to estimate how many of those machines may be around here, where they may be, what their patrol routes are – but we must assume that the district is crawling with them. For this place to be so much better maintained than the one we first arrived in… it’s likely this place was only deserted recently.”

Everyone stares at him, the kids looking disheartened, the rest, nervous and disappointed. So much for being able to find a safe place to stay any time soon.

Yoruichi nods curtly at him. “What do you propose?”

“It’s likely we’ll eventually be able to get to a new district by following this road. It may even be safe enough to spend a night in one of the houses, as long as we draw no attention. No lights, no loud sounds. Those clockworks have limited vision range, clearly – we should be able to sneak past them if we stick to walls, and move slowly.”

There’s nodding all around, even if some of it is uncertain. Ururu and Jinta stand close to him, eyes darting nervously from the clockwork to him. Jinta, so much quieter than normal. Even though they’re trying not to show it, they’re afraid. He can’t tell them not to be, not if he doesn’t want to lie. He never lies to them.

He _doesn’t know_ if he can protect them here. They’re playing a game that none of them know the rules for, with cards they can’t see, against opponents that they don’t know anything about, and with a dealer that is _constantly smiling_.

How does one prepare, when one doesn’t even know what to prepare _for?_

There is, however, no time like the present to face deadly danger. They’ve got no daylight to waste, if they want to get to a district that is, _hopefully_ , not infested with clockwork soldiers.

Quietly, carefully, they walk closer and closer to where the soldier stands across the street from them. It’s not a problem for him and Yoruichi, of course, and the games with Ururu and Jinta that Tessai had said were _unnecessary_ are paying off, but the other four…

Kisuke winces every time he hears a footstep too loud, or the clattering of pebbles dislodged from between two cobblestones. The soldier’s hearing isn’t that good. Probably. Hopefully. The street is _wide_ , they should be fine, and they could probably take out just the _one_ soldier, anyway.

One by one, they walk past the soldier. Kisuke takes the time to examine it from the reduced distance, carefully noting the seams between the white, ceramic plating, the places where some of the wires are slightly exposed, where the various sections of the arms and legs meet and are likely to be weaker, much easier to break. It’s not only the main joins that are structurally weak, after all.

No one talks once they’re past it. No knowing if there’s another soldier nearby.

They walk for a couple of hours before Kisuke notices something rising above the roofs of far-off buildings. Towers, with suspension cables. That must be a bridge to the other side of the city, across the river.

Well, that probably leads to a _different_ _district_ , where they may potentially be safe. If, of course, it isn’t heavily guarded by clockwork soldiers.

There’s hoping their current luck holds. And even if there are clockworks, if they are dormant, perhaps they can sneak past them.

Idly, most of his attention fixed on the street, side alleys, and the rooftops, looking for any sign of glinting metal (and every once in a while, there _is_ some glinting metal, a tall shape on the roof. Fucking _hell_ were they lucky to not attract attention earlier), Kisuke notes that fog has started to rise from the river, oozing between the buildings to reach their street. Perhaps it wouldn’t yet consume the bridge by the time they get there. Trying to cross it would likely not be pleasant if they can’t see anything. Especially if it as dilapidated as the first district that they had arrived in. He shudders as a gust of cool wind brings with it the stench of decay and blood, and tries not to inhale too deeply.

Hopefully, it’s just a few corpses lying around somewhere in close vicinity, and not some new and unwelcome kind of danger about to drop from the sky to scream in their faces. Or a large group of those zombies- damn it, he was trying so hard to think of them like that.

Minutes later, something about the smell forces him to pay attention to it. It’s still disgusting and horrible, but something else has been added to it. A smell of burning meat. Warily, Kisuke searches the skyline for any signs of smoke, of a fire, any indication as to the source. There doesn’t appear to be a fire raging nearby – so it must be something small. Contained. _Human_ \- _made_?

He strains his ears, listening. There’s a faint sound of grinding metal. A clockwork soldier, somewhere in the area.

Kisuke motions for the group to move closer to the buildings, hiding in the shadows as they move forward.

The street starts to slope upwards as they start to approach where the bridge meets the city. Kisuke hesitates. It would likely be a good idea to scout ahead, and the front of the building right next to them looks easy enough to scale, he could go over the roofs…

Yoruichi catches up to him, moving from the back of the group to the front.

“I think you and the others should wait here, I’ll go up the building and check from above what the situation around the bridge is like. There may be an ambush there. Hopefully won’t run into a clockwork, but… I’ll see. I should be fast enough to take one down _alone_ , if I have to.”

Well. She _is_ faster than him. And if there is an urgent need to get back _quickly…_ Kisuke stops walking, and lets out a long breath.

“We’ll wait for you here, then. If there’s something up ahead… Might be reasonable to hide in one of these buildings until tomorrow morning, if that’s the case. See if we can think of something else, a way around them, or a distraction. Fighting today, then trying to cross the bridge in fog, and with no idea how much longer we have till sundown – it’s been about five hours since sunrise, but there’s no way to know if the length of a day is the same here as back home, or even if it’s summer - days could be very short…”

Yoruichi hums in agreement, and walks over to the building, looking over it appraisingly, setting down her pack of supplies.

The kids murmur quietly, as they all watch her start to climb. Worried. Impressed. He’s not sure which. She’s over the top in what seems like no time, even to him, even without any enhancement to her natural abilities.

And now all they can do is wait.

Kisuke sees out of the corner of his eye that Ururu and Jinta are shivering, not much, but just enough to be noticeable. So are the others. It’s gotten colder, the fog starting to cling to them, and he wonders how long it will take him to start regretting always wearing sandals. Not like he chose them for _this_ purpose, of course. It’s impossible to be prepared for _everything_ , no matter how much he may try, and traveling to another dimension with a different climate was very much _not_ part of his plans for the week.

He restrains the urge to pace restlessly, instead choosing to lean against a wall, watching over the others.

If not for the very faint, regular pulses of Yoruichi’s reiatsu to signal her safety, he’d be worried. He doesn’t doubt her competence, her skills. But the way this world seems to be crawling with unexpected, unpredictable, unwanted threats, enough so that there have been _two casualties_. With their powers being apparently completely sealed… They are at a severe disadvantage.  

Yoruichi’s movements are so quiet as to be almost silent, and he only hears her climbing down once she’s less than two floors up.

“I saw three clockworks in neighbouring streets, but they were deactivated. None on the roof. No sign of any recent human presence, either – no idea where that smell came from. If we go slowly and quietly, I think we should be able to get to the bridge and cross it.”

It’s good news, and he tells her so. They can’t possibly get out of this particular danger zone fast enough.

Sticking to their side of the street, they walk to the bridge. It’s tall, and perhaps the metal is not exactly _gleaming_ , but it isn’t visibly rusted. The bridge looks perfectly structurally sound. His lips quirk, an unhappy smile trying to form. Of course, with the fog rolling in, perhaps the major flaws are simply concealed, and whole thing will collapse and drown them while they’re in the middle of crossing it.

Something’s wrong, but Kisuke can’t tell what it is, his subconscious refusing to communicate whatever cues it’s picked up on. His unease grows and grows, until he wants to call them to a stop before they leave the safety of the buildings’ shadows and cross the empty street to the bridge.

Single file, they start crossing the empty space. Kisuke, in the lead, is about to step on the bridge- and passes through some sort of barrier that glows when he touches it. A barrier that he hadn’t sensed _at all_ before this, it having blended so seamlessly into the atmosphere. A loud shrieking breaks the silence. They all freeze. A second later, another alarm starts blaring.

Security systems of some sort. He curses.

Loud mechanical whirring starts up from all directions. Clockworks, waking up. Kisuke’s heart sinks, seeing over a dozen glowing lights turning in their direction through the gloom. Fighting all of those, at once…

The cracks of displaced air echo through the space. Humanoid shapes appear in the street, some turning to face the clockworks, some turning to them. And not looking very friendly.

Apparently, the bridge is the boundary between territories of two _different_ kinds of monsters.

 _Fucking hell, could this day possibly get_ any worse _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> :insert desperate groveling for reviews here:


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do remember that the fourth tag for this story is 'time loop'!  
> there's not going to be any permanent major character death, don't worry :)

One monster, a woman with black markings on her arms and face, runs forward, thrusting out an arm in their direction. The markings glow fiery orange, and a dozen spikes erupt from her arm, flying in his direction, glowing red hot. Kisuke deflects some of them with Benihime, letting the rest sink into the pavement around his feet.

The witches and clockworks are cutting off the way back.

“Kuchiki-san! Lead everyone across the bridge – Yoruichi-san and I will hold them back!”

He can’t turn around to see what she does, because the woman – the witch – is too close, getting ready to fling another volley of spikes.

Without shunpo, or even just reiatsu, he’s not as fast as he was – but still fast enough to avoid the projectiles, close the distance between them, and swing Benihime in an arc that beheads the witch in one single strike.

The other witches scream in rage. One of them lunges forward, vanishing into thin air.

Kisuke lunges down and to the side, as the witch materialises right behind where he had stood, a knife held ready in her hand – no black markings on her, but vines seems to grow under her skin. Different types of powers?

She parries his strike, and starts making a flinging motion with her arm. Kisuke doesn’t wait to see the result, ducking under the predicted arc of projectiles, and slashing at her with Benihime. He realises his misjudged the distance, far too late- but a red streak breaks free from the blade, bisecting the witch through her torso. Well, apparently not _all_ Shinigami abilities are gone, even if it feel like someone set fire to the bones in his arm now. There’s no time for that. He grits his teeth, and grips Benihime with his left hand, instead of his right.

In the scant few seconds since the first attack, Ichigo and Yoruichi have engaged the other witches. Kuchiki-san and the kids are almost on the bridge proper. If the witches attacking them are dealt with, and the other witches are held up with the clockwork, and vice versa, they could escape without being followed...

From the ground to about double his height, the supports of the bridge light up. Bolts of lightning – electricity- jump from one side to the other, creating a wall of light blocking their way.

Kuchiki-san doesn’t stop in time. For a second, it almost looks like she’s fine, wreathed in lightning- and then she explodes into black, burning scraps and dust as she passes through, falling to the ground in a heap of ash.

His brain stutters to a stop, refusing to process that for a second. That was the most random, unexpected… but of course, he should have expected there to be even more security systems, if there was an alarm, if there were two factions in conflict here.

…They have to fight through the witches and clockworks then. Fuck. Right. Okay.

The kids stutter to a halt, Inoue-san and the Kurosaki girl pulling them back, away from the deadly trap.

Kisuke turns back to the fighting.

Yoruichi’s taken down two witches, aided by Kurosaki: both of the prone forms have broken limbs and necks from Yoruichi, but one has deep slashes and is missing an arm. The pack with supplies that Yoruichi was carrying is destroyed, burning spikes evidencing its use as a shield.

Not good, that, but at least Yoruichi’s alive and unharmed.

The remaining witches are fighting the clockworks. Seven witches against a dozen-odd clockworks. Or, well, presumably that’s what it was in the beginning, what with all the corpses and bits of metal and clockwork scattered everywhere. Only three witches, and four clockworks left now. Clearly, long range precision strikes are a weakness of the clockwork. Although, perhaps, most things are weak to hot spikes being rammed through their chests.

If they let them fight each other for a while longer, deplete each other’s forces… Well, then they will barely need to do anything.

But they can’t afford to wait, not when reinforcements may arrive any moment.

He sprints forwards. Two more clockworks go down, glowing hot spikes punching through armour and breaking whatever’s inside them. The clockworks _explode_ , shrapnel flying everywhere.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Yoruichi and Ichigo follow his lead.

A witch falls in a spray of blood, skewered from behind on Benihime. Another falls to Yoruichi, an unexpected kick snapping her neck from the sheer force behind it.

The last witch, caught between the two remaining clockworks – one missing a head, and flailing at _everything_ including its comrade, screams, and vanishes. There’s no matching sound of her reappearing. Damn. Must be retreating. How soon will she be able to return with more of her kind?

The broken clockwork attacks its fellow, it’s blades going right through the weak points in the casing. This soldier explodes too. Some of the shrapnel cuts through the joints of the other, and _both_ fall to pieces on the ground, the second clockwork exploding as it falls. One large chunk of metal grazes Kisuke’s leg.

Ow. There’s no indication of it being broken, or the bone so much as even slightly cracking, but there will be quite a nasty bruise there later.

The alarms have stopped blaring a few seconds ago, the place now silent. From somewhere far off, echoes of grinding metal sound. More clockwork soldiers. Reinforcements.

They have to leave.

The bridge isn’t an option. Not when he has no idea how to disable the security device in the next minute without accidentally killing them all when if it malfunctions. Not if there’s another magical... _tripwire_ on the other end, to summon more enemies. They probably shouldn’t go back where they came from... And venturing deeper into the city, without a map…

Yoruichi’s arrived at the same conclusion as he does, but speaks before he manages to.

“We need to leave, before more reinforcements come. Let’s continue going along the river.”

There’s no disagreement. Ichigo leads the group now, as they all _run_ from the bridge.

The noise is loud, too loud, footsteps almost _echoing_. So _easy_ for an enemy to hear. But they have to get out of the view of that place, they can’t afford to be spotted by the reinforcements. Even if he hasn’t realised it yet, Ichigo will be more tired after fighting with no reiatsu, and Yoruichi is already slowing, and Kiske doesn’t like those chances in a fight.

Thankfully, the river curves, and so does the road they follow. Soon enough, they’re out of sight of the site of the fight. Everyone slows to a walking pace, a much slower one than before the bridge. He can’t blame them for that, however. The kids look exhausted as it is.

The fog is much lighter here, and already dissipating to boot, revealing a sun starting to set.

Oh. He hadn’t realised so much time had passed – the kids, they must be starving by now, but not have said anything from the stress. They probably all need lunch, however, not just the children… but with the supply pack, destroyed in the altercation...

The buildings around them are different than in the previous area of the city. More similar to where they had first ended up, this zone is more worn, everything dirtier and more abandoned-looking that the streets of the clockwork territory.

The windows are boarded up or broken, remnants of glass glinting in the frames. Some doors shattered, dark entryways yawning open like the mouths of beasts. The smell of age and rot drifts out of some houses, which is frankly not promising, and then there’s also the buildings draped over with _cloth_...

Not _all_ the houses are in _as_ great a state of disrepair as others. Perhaps they can find something liveable, with canned supplies that are still safe to consume. Things like maps, books, research, however… unlikely that there would be much that has survived whatever happened here, whatever it was that made everyone _leave_.

Regardless, they have to stop _somewhere_. They need shelter, before night falls. And before someone collapses, of hunger or exhaustion or stress. The new area might be old, dirty, but he hasn’t seen the shapes of dormant clockworks on the tops of the building anywhere here. It’s quiet, no hint of anything close by. No rats, no witches, no clockwork soldiers, no stone creatures. Nothing. It seems like a safe enough place.

Of course, there could be yet another kind of danger here, something else horrible and deadly to watch out for, but they have to take what they can get. All of them need rest.

Distractedly, he rubs at his right arm. Whatever he managed to do, back at the bridge… An instinctive use of his reiryoku to generate an attack similar to one of his shikai attacks, which is promising in that it means they still have at least some access to their powers… but if it hurts like _this_ every time, like someone injected molten metal…

Right. Not thinking of that right now. He can’t fix it anyway, no point paying attention to the pain.

Kisuke notices even himself start to stumble as he walks. The lack of proper rest yesterday and food, the fast-paced fight without reiatsu have clearly taken more out of him than he expected. Yoruichi is likely not much better than himself, he knows. Ichigo… he looks more functional than they do, having shoved down all his grief and rage. Turning them into a drive strong enough to pull him through.

They reach a crossroads. A glance down the street leasing to the water shore pulls a little noise of triumph out of Kisuke, spying the sign on the building at the end of that road. _Hound Pits Pub._ If there aren’t at least _some_ supplies in there, he’ll eat his own hat. Or, well, if he still _had_ it, he’d eat it. The thing hadn’t seen fit to stay on his head during the fight, and he hadn’t noticed it in time to pick it up before they left.

They circle the building first, to look for any signs of intrusion, any signs that a monster of some sort broke in and made it their home. He and Yoruichi find none, which is… probably the most promising news they’ve gotten in the past twenty hour hours or so.

With monsters _apparently_ more likely to emerge from the alleys between houses, and not the river that the pub faces – so far, they haven’t seen or heard _anything_ from the direction of the water, actually – Yoruichi tells Jinta and Ururu to stay just outside the door of the pub facing the river, while the rest of them look through the house. Well, she tells that to the Kurosaki girl, too, but she seems determined to follow her brother everywhere.

Impossible to know if there’s something waiting inside to ambush them, but the _outside_ looks safe enough to be around for a little while, just long enough to finish the search. At least for now, in daylight.

Kisuke picks the ground floor to look through. Yoruichi takes the second, and Ichigo, his sister, and Inoue-san take the third.

The pub is a tad dirty, windows grimy, dust in a thick layer over everything. The electricity works, which is a pleasant surprise. The wood of the walls and furniture, _old_ that it may look, on close inspection reveals itself to be perfectly solid and undamaged by age or mold. Better yet, despite the lack of any sign of inhabitation in the near past, or any past at all, the cupboards behind the counter are _full_ of tinned goods. And if one of them is fine, they’re all fine. Or if they’re not, well, if shinigami abilities appear to work to an _extent_... And he had seen Inoue-san’s attempt healing yesterday... If the ability failing was _only_ caused by the death of the target… Perhaps she still has access to _all_ her powers, and perhaps they could be used to reject the food to a prior, edible state...

Kisuke freezes and spins around, thoughts of food and supplies vanishing in an instant. The already usually light pressure of the children’s reiatsu is _fading,_ which means that they’re _hurt_. Injured, and in danger of _dying_. How had he not _noticed,_ not picked up that there’s something going wrong outside… There should have been an auditory cue of _some_ sort...

The wooden floor creaks loudly in protest. He sprints as fast as he can manage without shunpo. He’s already out of the door of the building by the time he realises that he’s drawn Benihime, red _sparks_ skittering down her blade, ready to fight. He stumbles to a halt outside. There’s no marks of fighting, any sign of an altercation or monster being present, _and no sign of the children,_ except if they’re injured, they should be crying for help… But there’s no screaming, he can’t _see_ them… The only thing he can hear is a strange sound, like music, echoing from over the water, like the sound of some sort of wind instrument, a pipe… Desperately, Kisuke reaches out with his reiatsu, blanketing the area to find the precise location of the children.

They’re in the water. Deep enough that it’s over their heads. Water, in which he can see a swirling storm of fish. Water, that’s slowly turning _red_. His thoughts stumble and crash upon reaching their destination.

 _Carnivorous fish_.

Someone is screaming. Calling the kids’ names. He only dimly realises that the sounds are being torn from his own throat. Even though he can’t shunpo, it feels like he crosses the distance to the shore in a single step, the distance and time simply _not registering_ beneath the blind, unwanted panic _._ He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t _pause_ to think.

The water is cold around him. The current drags at his haori, but he doesn’t care. He wades to where the water is frothing and red, as the fish circle the drowning children in a frenzy, ripping both at them, and at each other, mad with taste of blood.

He reaches through the storm of slimy, scaly bodies, until his hand grasps another’s. He doesn’t know whose. He only knows that the reiatsu of both children is fading, faster and faster, and he has to save them (at least one of them, whispers a traitorous thought willing to entertain the idea that he won’t be able to save them _both_ ).

Kisuke pulls, trying to get the child back to the surface, backing away to get to shallower water, but the fish swarm him, too. He slashes viciously with Benihime in his right hand, but there are so _many_ , and even the remnants of his reiatsu aren’t protecting him from the long, sharp teeth ripping at him, tearing through skin and flesh, adding to the pain from earlier. Out of the corner of his eye, through the water and foam and fish, he notes the way that bones gleam through long, jagged rips on his arms. Rips that bleed heavily into the water, staining his clothes with even _more_ blood.

But even as the water froths, bits of dead fish floating _everywhere_ , the air full of the stench of blood and fish, the swarm doesn’t retreat. It only grows more and more frenetic, biting and tearing at _everything_ , a storm of teeth. And, his right arm isn’t _strong_ enough to do anything more than hold on to the hand almost slipping out of his grasp, the pain _too much_.

The children’s reiatsu is faint, _almost_ out of reach, but... Inoue-san’s abilities, they’ll be enough to save them, they’ll be _fine_ , just a few more strikes with Benihime, and the fish will be gone, they _have_ to be gone, and he’ll pull them out, and they’ll be _fine_ , they’ll be traumatised but they’ll _live_...

An arm wraps around his middle, pulling him backwards, to the shore. He tries to struggle, but the other person is stronger. The hand he’s still holding on to is slipping out of his grasp, too slick with water and blood. He pulls desperately at it, trying to hold on, but he _fails. He can’t hold on, he’s failed, he’s_ failed.

The fish don’t follow them, swarming around the children. He _has_ to go back, he _has_ to save them, why won’t this person let _go_ of him...

They’re on solid land now, and someone is pinning him to the durty cobbled street. Kisuke tries to throw them off, tries to get back into the water, but the pain and panic make it too hard to think, to fight back properly. _The children_ , they’re _still in the water_ , why isn’t the other person _helping him rescue them_ , why are they _stopping_ him.

The golden glow of Soten Kisshun surrounds both of them (...and oh, he was right, it _does_ work, and if he had the attention, the presence of mind, he’d be forming theories about what works here and how and why…). Kisuke can feel the wounds on his arms and legs start to heal, the horrible, searing pain registering properly only right before fading away.

“Let me go, I have to save them, let me _go_ , _let me-“_

“Urahara-san, it’s _too late_ , they’re _gone_.”

No. He can still feel their reiatsu, they’re still there, they have to still be alive, they can’t be dead, they can’t be- He doesn’t realise he’s screaming that out loud until the other person replies, gently, sadly.

“I’m sorry, but… they’re _gone_ , whatever you think you can feel… it’s not real. They’re not there.” That voice, that _familiar_ voice is full of pity, and Kisuke wants to _scream_ , because can’t the other person feel them, they’re there, they’re still there with the fish, _he has to save them_ -

He reaches out with his reiatsu, desperately seeking the familiar presences. They _have_ to be there, they _have to_.

But they’re gone.

(Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows they’ve been gone for a while, but he can’t- _he can’t_ -)

He’s not screaming anymore, he notices distantly. Just crying, chest heaving with sobs, tears mingling with the river-water and fresh blood on his face. How embarrassing to lose this much control. Except, he still can’t pull himself together, even now that the moment has passed, now that everything’s... _over_.

The heavy weight on his back vanishes. He sits up, shaking and shivering and his head is _spinning_ , everything unreal and off-kilter and _distant._ Finally, he gets a look at who it was that pulled him out of the water.

It’s Ichigo, his clothes wet and lightly stained with blood. Kisuke’s blood and the blood of… the blood of Ururu and Jinta.

Who are dead. While Kisuke isn’t. Kisuke, who wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, good enough to save them. Too _late_ , always, _always_ too late.

He’s shaking and sobbing and he’s _covered_ in blood, his, and that of his children, and he can’t… he can’t _breathe_. There’s something constricting his throat, a heavy weight in his chest, his beating of his own heart, so traitorously alive, too loud in his ears, and he can’t _think_ clearly. It’s too much, it’s all _too much_.

Someone is speaking, but it’s as though they’re a great, great distance away from him. The words are muffled and indistinct. And they don’t matter,  _nothing_ matters. Ururu and Jinta are _dead_ , and his chest _hurts_.

There’s two people speaking now, and he can feel that they’re sitting next to him. One is holding his hand, warm fingers twining with his own cold and wet ones. The other is resting a hand on his shoulder. Trying to get his attention. Trying to ground him.

Ichigo. Yoruichi.

“-hear us? Kisuke, can you hear us?” Yoruichi’s voice breaks through the fog.

He wants to pretend that he can’t. He doesn’t want to hear them. He doesn’t want to hear _anything_. He just wants to curl up and fall asleep and never wake up again, because it _hurts_. It hurts more than he can bear.

“Kisuke, you- you need to get up, okay? We can’t stay out here, it’s too exposed, and you need to clean off the blood. We need to find something clean and dry for you and Ichigo to wear. Yes, it hurts. I know it hurts. I know it’s _hard_ , but for a little while, can you focus? Just for a little while? Can you do that for me?” Her voice is quiet, but insistent, commanding.

Of course. Too exposed. Need to move. Right.

Kisuke tries to steady his breathing, counting seven to breathe out, five to breathe in, but it’s hard to keep the numbers straight, hard to not see- He has to not think of that. For now, for _right now_ , he has to shove this - all this - down. It’s just shock that keeps him disoriented and blank and paralysed. Nothing more. He can work past that. He has to. Just for a little while, like Yoruichi said.

His sobs subside to light hiccups, and he rubs at his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears blurring his vision.

He resolutely ignores the sight of the red, so horribly red blood on his hands. His arms. His clothes.

Ichigo and Yoruichi pull him to his feet, Ichigo disregarding the blood and river dirt on his clothes, and letting Kisuke use him as support. His legs shake too much for him to stand on his own, he knows. But he can’t string the words together to express his gratitude.

He’s seen death, he’s _caused_ death, but somehow, this is so, so much worse.

The time it takes to go inside the pub and get upstairs, where someone found the working shower earlier, doesn’t register with him. He notes only dimly that Yoruichi leaves him with Ichigo, going to root through the closets for clothes of Kisuke’s size - of course, he can’t just put these back on.

His mind is blank, for once, thoughts failing to start. Everything is numb and empty, slowed almost to a standstill.

Ichigo leaves him alone to get undressed and wash. His eyes dark with concern right before he leaves, and Kisuke suspects that he’s sat down just behind the closed door, listening for any sign of _anything_ going wrong.

The water is… it’s clean, but it’s _water_ , and the rush makes him think of the foaming, bloody river full of writhing fish. Benihime heavy in his hand (and when had he let go of her, where is she...). Blood, blood _everywhere_ …

He scrubs at his skin to get rid of the red stains, closing his eyes so he can’t see the water, gleaming and splashing and _frothing_ , turning red from the blood on his skin, blood that he needs to wash off, blood that isn’t all _his_...

He’s not sure he’s gotten all of it out of his hair, where the splashes had dyed it crimson, but he can’t deal with the water anymore, and it looks like it’s running clean, no more blood washing off him. But there’s still probably red in his hair, he can’t have scrubbed it well enough.

The towel he uses to dry his hair comes away without red stains, however, so maybe he _did_ get everything. Or he didn’t dry it properly. Kisuke doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. 

Yoruichi must have come in at some point without him noticing, because there’s a pile of clean clothes waiting, perched on the edge of the sink. They are... different, they feel different from what he usually wears, the fabric not the same as his clothes, but they sit well enough.

Ichigo is still outside the door, and he guides Kisuke to a couch in a nearby room. It’s a bit dusty, and the room is dark, but at least it’s dry, and it doesn’t smell of _blood_ and _water_ apart from the smell that sticks to Ichigo. The smell that is suddenly clogging and overpowering and he can’t _breathe_ -

The smell is gone, Ichigo having left to go clean himself, too, but there’s still someone in the room with him. The Kurosaki girl, and Inoue-san. Probably left to watch him, so that he... doesn’t do something stupid.

He curls up, pulling his knees up to his chest, and tries to not think. To not feel. To not _be_. Or to feel… to feel something else. His fingers itch even as he chases away the vague memory, the faint _longing_. That’s not a solution.

Time fades away to an empty sort of _greyness_.

Someone drapes a blanket over him. A hand lingers on his shoulder. Has been lingering for a few moments now, he realises belatedly, someone trying to draw his attention.

It’s Ichigo, again. Back already?

“I think there should be some tea in the kitchen, Urahara-san. Would you like me to make you some?”

Tea. His thoughts stutter and break and disintegrate, blanked out by the fog. Even thinking about something as trivial as _tea_ is hard. How ridiculous.

“Urahara-san?”

He doesn’t know.

“I’ll get you some anyway, okay?”

“...Thank you,” he whispers, and the hoarse rasp surprises him. It shouldn’t, he thinks vaguely. Not with the all the screaming from earlier. Yet it does.

The hand on his shoulder tightens its grip for a second, giving a reassuring squeeze. Then Ichigo leaves.

It feels, again, like no time passes. But it’s just the shock that makes it feel like that. Just shock. Nothing more. Nothing.

A hot cup is being pressed into his hands, but he can’t grip it, tremors making the simple action impossible. Noticing that, Ichigo doesn’t let go of it, and draws back.

Kisuke feels the air shift. The couch creaks as Ichigo sits down next to him, holding the cup steady for him.

The tea is scalding, almost too hot. The taste is strong and bitter. Over-brewed, but that only helps. Helps clear his head, a little. Helps him focus on something, anything. Helps the choking feeling in his chest subside. It’s not much, no, but it’s a _start_. And he has to start dealing with it all from _somewhere_. Anywhere.

He blinks rapidly, trying to focus on Ichigo’s face, to clear away the tears that have blurred his vision again.

“Would you like some more tea, Urahara-san?”

“Yes, please, Kurosaki-san. That would be very kind of you.” His voice already sounds better, even if is quiet and muted, and still hoarse.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit then, just need to refill the cup. You’ll be okay here, yeah?”

Kisuke nods, and watches Ichigo stand up and leave the room.

Once he’s gone, Kisuke finally turns his attention to his surroundings. This living room is large, with various shelves and cupboards, a fireplace set into one wall. He’s curled up on one of _three_ couches, one of others occupied by the quietly talking girls.

It’s easier to focus, easier to not lose time, to not let thoughts break and drift, just as long as he _has_ something to focus on. Like counting the seconds until Ichigo come back with a cup full of steaming, bitter tea, that Kisuke’s hands are _almost_ steady enough to hold without help.

He drinks it slower than the first cup. Strangely, Ichigo stays even though Kisuke no longer needs him, even though he has shown every courtesy demanded and is now free to leave. Except he’s still there. Watching.

“Is there anything I can do to help you, Urahara-san?”

 _Bring them back,_ something in Kisuke still wants to scream. _Bring them back, please, trade my life for theirs_. He takes it as a good sign that he doesn’t. There’s nothing that can be done for them. Nothing.

It’s hard to keep his breathing steady. The only thing he can control, and even that, only barely. He can’t even restrain the occasional tears. But he has to try.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair and he wants to scream. Scream so loud that won’t be able to hear the voice in his head saying that it’s all his fault. That because he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, he couldn’t pull them out of the water. That they died because of _him_.

Dwelling on it won’t help. Won’t help him keep the rest alive. But he can’t help it. Can’t stop it.

Today. He’ll be sad for just the rest of today, and tomorrow he has to be functional. He’ll allow himself just today to grieve. No more than a day.

Kisuke closes his eyes.

(He already knows that it will take longer than that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am groveling on the ground for your reviews, my dear readers!


	4. Chapter 4

After a thorough search, the pub really does look like the safest place around to stay in. And the warmest.

Ichigo and Yoruichi return to the sitting room upstairs, where Karin and Orihime are quietly talking. He catches only a few words, something about  _ rice _ of all things, before they quiet down and turn to watch him.

“We’ve found a room here with several bunk beds, and a couple rooms with separate beds. But I don’t think we should split up at night. The kids could-” Yoruichi starts and falters, breaking off. Clearly, that hasn’t sunk in quite yet. “However we split up, there should be at least one light sleeper in each group. Just in case of- anything. Are any of you...?”

Ichigo knows that Karin and Orihime aren’t. And while he might usually be, after today’s events, he’s probably going to sleep like a corpse.

Yoruichi frowns, and casts a glance over at the other occupied couch. 

Urahara is still curled up exactly where Ichigo left him. His eyes are closed now. Ichigo isn’t sure if he’s asleep, or still listening. Yoruichi follows his gaze.

“Tsch, asleep. But if we move him, that won’t last. And hell if I know whether he could fall asleep again. Never… we’ve never has something like this happen. But leaving him here to sleep alone… old habits  _ are _ hard to break. Maybe he’ll wake up in time… Maybe not,” she murmurs. “The rest of us could all share the big room, I suppose. Safety in numbers, if you all don’t mind?”

“I could stay here, if someone’s got to keep an eye on him.” 

Yoruichi turns to stare at him in surprise.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ichigo doesn’t sleep well. Or, well, almost not at all. But then, he doesn’t think  _ anyone _ could sleep well, not after… the carnage, earlier today. Or is it already yesterday? He shivers. Images of the bloody water, the snapping fish well up in front of his eyes. At least he got there in time to pull out Urahara. At least that is one less casualty than there  _ could _ have been.

Desperate screaming still echoes in his ears. A ghost of a sound. The smell of blood mixing with dead fish and river water still  _ lingers _ , even if there shouldn’t be any sources of it left now.

If it’s that bad for  _ him _ , and he hadn’t even known the kids… well, he  _ had _ known them. He had talked and occasionally played with them over the last three years. It  _ hurts _ to know they are dead. (Not as much as it hurts to think about- about his sister, but it does hurt.) It must be so,  _ so _ much worse for Urahara.

The couch isn’t great. Too hard. Too lumpy. The blanket he found in a dusty cupboard not quite enough to keep the chill at bay. Even with the windows closed, faded green curtains drawn, a small fire lit in the fireplace, cold still seeps into the building, an unwelcome guest.

Every creak of the wooden shutters from the wind blowing outside, every rustle of the curtains, every snap of the wood in the fireplace is enough to startle Ichigo back to alertness. He hasn’t tried to get up, however, despite the lack of sleep and the sheer  _ boredom _ . Not like there’s anything to do in the dead of night anyway.

At least Urahara is still asleep despite all the tiny, irritating,  _ noises _ . Or  _ looks _ like he is, at least. Ichigo doesn’t think he could tell the difference between him actually sleeping, and  _ pretending  _ to.

The windows rattle again.

Giving up on sleep as a bad job, Ichigo sits up. Stretches. Winces at the way his spine decides to  _ crack _ in the quiet room. There’s no clock in this room, his own watch isn’t working - and wouldn’t tell the right time anyway, probably. So, looking out of the window for any signs of dawn it is. 

He creeps over to the east-facing window, and carefully draws back a heavy curtain. Fog has risen from the river, blanketing the street below, but isn’t high enough to obscure the sky. A sky that is starting to lighten, dark blue turning slate grey, feathered with light clouds.

Something - a movement, maybe - catches Ichigo’s attention, drawing his eyes down to the street. He’s not sure what it was. If it was anything at all. Maybe just a rat, scampering around… With how dilapidated the district is, the presence of rats is  _ certain _ . Perhaps they should try to reinforce the doors. Seal up any cracks in the walls and cellar. If there are any.

Well, that’s a task to be done after dawn breaks. One among several, probably.

The curtain rustles as its pulls closed. Hopefully, not too loudly. Ichigo pads around the edge of the room until he can see Urahara, to check if he’s still asleep. 

The rustle wasn’t enough to wake him. Thankfully. Ichigo thought Urahara would be a much,  _ much _ lighter sleeper. Maybe Yoruichi put a sedative or something in the tea, when Ichigo wasn’t looking? But he knows she wouldn’t. Well. Maybe she  _ would _ . Or perhaps it’s just the exhaustion overriding habits. Perhaps he’s not really asleep, simply  _ pretending _ . Or awake and unresponsive. 

Ichigo doesn’t realise he’s  _ staring _ until his eyes fix on the tear tracks glistening in the odd, flickering light of the fireplace. Soundlessly crying, even in his sleep. Gritting his teeth, Ichigo forces himself to turn away. There’s nothing he can do to help. Urahara needs rest. Waking him up wouldn’t  _ help _ . Besides, Benihime is lying on the floor within Urahara’s reach. Ichigo doesn’t fancy being  _ stabbed _ .

 

* * *

 

 

Dawn proper arrives what seems like  _ hours _ later.

As they wake up, everyone drifts to the pub’s actual pub zone for breakfast. Ichigo keeps a watchful eye on Urahara. He looks... blank. His face is unusually empty of expression, his eyes dull. His reply to Ichigo’s greeting barely more than a whisper. 

The others, at least seem a little more lively, the girls talking about the kinds of clothes they’ve seen in the drawers and wardrobes, trying to figure out the local fashion. Ichigo tunes it out.

Maybe Karin and Orihime are starting to get used to this place. Or pretending it’s all a nightmare. 

Hell, maybe it is. Just one of his weird dreams. Except unusually nightmarish. But just a dream.

There’s tinned fish and dry bread and preserved peaches for breakfast, which maybe isn’t the best thing Ichigo’s eaten, but he doesn’t complain. No one does.

No one mentions yesterday.

“Kurosaki-san. Hey! Listen up.”

Ichigo blinks and turns to stare at Yoruichi.

“Wonderful. Now that you’re  _ actually listening _ , time to figure out what we’re going to do in this hellhole. Or rather, I’m going to share my plan, and you’re going to nod. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. So. Right now we have shelter, some food, some clothes, some coal to keep us warm at night. We have electricity for light, and clean water. Which is much better than nothing. Unfortunately, we’re bound to run out. Probably sooner rather than later. And we can’t wait for a rescue.”

Ichigo nods. She’s got a point.

“We might be able to scavenge more resources from the other houses. But that still leaves us just waiting here for the next piece of crap to fall on our heads, until we all die off. We have to get out.”

“Yeah, but- where are we going to to?” Karin asks, frowning. “We just keep running into  _ stuff _ , we don’t know where it’s safe to go.”

Yoruichi grins unhappily. 

“Yeah. Well. Hopefully, we can find a map. And then me, Kisuke, and Ichigo can go scout, and mark down the locations of any ambushes, any enemies. The shit here doesn’t seem to like roofs, so that’s how we’ll stay safe.” She sighs. “And we can’t go too far. And we have to bring back any valuable supplies we find. So it’ll be pretty slow, since only two of us can leave at a time.”

“Why only two? There’s five of us!” Karin protests.

“Because you and Inoue-san are going to stay here, where you are safe. And one of us is going to stay here to guard you, and out stock of supplied.”

Karin scowls at her, and opens her mouth to protest. And falls silent from the look Ichigo shoots her.

“Er, what if we don’t  _ find _ any maps?

“Then we’ll make some.”

Ichigo blinks at her.

“Or, well, me and Kisuke will, since I guess they don’t teach cartography in human schools anymore. You’ll just go out to scavenge.”

“That sounds… okay, I guess. But shouldn’t we try going for the other shore? Since, uh, the electricity wall. It’s keeping all the monsters away from there. Maybe there’s people or something on the other side. Safety.”

“I was going to get to that myself.” Yoruichi snorts. “That is why we’re  _ also _ going to find a boat. Worst case scenario happens pub, everyone gets on the boat and tries to get across - even if we don’t know what’s on the other side. I’m pretty sure the clockworks can’t swim, and witches will have a hard time finding a place to stand and aim their crap.”

“What about the fish though? What if…”

“They can eat wood? Well, we gotta test that out then. And hope like  _ hell _ that water monsters aren’t a thing here, but who the fuck knows.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Yoruichi-san, Kurosaki-san.”

Yoruichi turns around to see Kisuke standing up from the table strewn with books rescued from the nearby houses.

“What did you find?” Ichigo asks him, eyebrows raised, but voice  _ hopeful _ . “Good news?”

Kisuke smiles that particular smile, that Yoruichi knows means ‘That’s a definition of good that I’ve never heard of before, please elaborate’. Her heart sinks.

“Remember- the first couple of days, remember the sick people? The ones that got executed? And you know how many rats there are around the place?”

Ichigo nods.

“Well. Do you want the bad news, the worse news, or the exceptionally bad news?” Kisuke’s smile turns properly grim now, and he doesn’t wait for an answer. “This part of the city has been overrun by plague rats, which is the bad news. A plague, the kind of which does not exist in our world, and- I believe that you would not like to know the details of the disease’s progression.”

Shit.  _ Shit _ . A plague? Really?

And he said there was more.

Why couldn’t he have found the recipe for resurrecting dead loved ones instead.

“The worse news is that all the survivors, like those we’ve seen earlier, will attack us on sight and attempt to infect us. The exceptionally bad news? The clockworks are likely here to help keep the plague contained to this side of the river. And will try eradicate us, believing us to be sick and contagious.”

Ichigo swears.

 

* * *

 

 

“You are _not_ _going_ , Kisuke.”

Ichigo stops staring at the bottle of pear soda like it might reveal all the secrets of the universe within if he stares at it long enough, and glances over at the doorway. Yoruichi is glowering so hard at Urahara, he’s surprised he’s not burst into flames yet. 

To be fair, she has a point. Urahara is pale, dark shadows under his eyes showing that he hasn’t been sleeping at all the past few nights, despite all the sedatives Yoruichi has probably been trying to sneak him.

“I am- I can-”

“No. Not in this state. You want to go out on your own to fall off a roof and break your neck, do it when we aren’t around to see it.” Her tone is suddenly harsh and unyielding. 

Ichigo winces. That’s  _ harsh _ .

Urahara wilts further. Yoruichi sighs.

“Kisuke… I’ll be fine. Please, stay here and get some  _ rest _ . Just take some sedatives, go sleep until I get back. Ichigo’ll keep watch. Everything will be fine.  _ Rest _ .”

 

* * *

 

 

Yoruichi isn’t back yet. Ichigo gnaws at his lip, staring out of the window, waiting for any sign of her. She said that she might be gone for  _ two _ days, not one, if she found  _ anything _ . And keeping what they have left of their reiatsu reined in seems to make it harder for anything – rats, weepers, whatever – to spot them. She can’t signal him like that, not if she wants to stay unnoticed. 

He knows she’s competent, knows that she can go for two days with no sleep (it’s not like she can sleep while exploring - even a light sleeper might react too late to a teleporting witch) and remain in working condition... but here, good luck seems to be a foreign concept.

The neighbouring houses haven’t yielded any useful books or papers yet. Or even maps. So, they’re actually having to  _ make _ the damn things. But it’s not like Yoruichi to have  _ gotten lost _ on the way back, even with only a rough and incomplete map. That can’t be why she’s late.

But the only other explanations… best scenario is that she just broke her leg, and if Ichigo heads out in the general direction that she’s gone, he can find her. Worst case...

He wanders outside, wanting to get a breath of (relatively) fresh air. Orihime follows him. Even she can’t stare endlessly at the scraps of books and papers, trying to put them in a legible order, hunting for clues- and only ever finding finance reports, names, assorted bureaucratic stuff that is absolutely  _ useless _ . It does, at least, seem like the city was inhabited at  _ some _ point, before it was overrun by the plague, the clockworks, and witches.

Hopefully there are survivors across the river.

A weird scrabbling noise breaks the silence. Tensing, Ichigo tries to locate the source. The roof? Ichigo moves his head just a fraction, pretending he hasn’t heard anything, his hand settling on Zangetsu’s hilt. 

_ Something _ leaps down from the roof. Metal grinds and screeches. The thing twists in mid-air,  landing on its feet, letting out a vicious snarl.

Horrified, Ichigo stares at the thing facing him. It- she?-  _ it _ has Yoruichi’s face. Well, part of it, With the exception of the eyes, replaced with clockwork machinery. Ichigo’s eyes are drawn to its hands, where the fingers have been replaced with long, serrated blades. 

He’s got no  _ time  _ to stare more, because the monster  _ lunges _ . Blades ready to shred him. Ichigo catches its claws on Zangetsu, shoving the thing away, and jumps back, hitting the wall. 

Fuck.

There has to be a way to undo it, something that can fix the-  _ damage _ .

Soten Kisshun bursts into life around Yoruichi, and Ichigo’s heart lightens. Of course, that kind of thing can be rejected, undone, all he has to do is keep her in the field-

The metal pieces rip themselves out of Yoruichi, falling apart into scraps, with the rest of her body following.

What. That… Ichigo stares. That shouldn’t have been the effect. That shouldn’t have…

Unless she was really, truly dead before, and her previous  _ state _ was this.

Orihime is retching behind him, the sight, the  _ smell _ , far too much for her. 

Honestly, Ichigo’s stomach is also signalling its desire to join empty its contents, because holy  _ fuck  _ that is horrifying. The blood and viscera and body parts are just scattered around, mixed in with cogs and wires and metal platers.

But they can’t afford to get distracted. If Yoruichi got caught by something, got _sent_ _back…_ it’s likely more things will come. Clockwork soldiers, probably. And soon.

Or she may have drawn attention while getting here, what with how much  _ noise _ she made. Regardless. It’s time to leave. With the boat… it can probably handle all four of them, and some supplies. Time to move to the other shore.

He doesn’t spare a glance back at Orihime, instead rushing right back inside the pub.

“Karin! Urahara-san!”

Karin and Urahara turn look at him from where they’re poring over the hand-drawn maps and books.

“We have to leave, now. A clockwork-  _ thing  _ attacked us. More are probably following, never mind anything else that heard the commotion.”

Urahara stares at him, wide-eyed, even as he rolls up and sweeps the maps and papers into a bag, kept for just this situation. 

“Kurosaki-san… But what about Yoruichi-san? We can’t  _ leave _ without her - remember, we can just go up one of the buildings, hide on the roof…” Urahara’s whisper is quiet,  _ confused _ , and Ichigo swallows a curse.  _ Crap _ , how the hell is he going to tell him…

“Urahara-san, that clockwork thing… whoever makes the soldiers, they caught her. I’m sorry, but Yoruichi-san is dead.” It’s disjointed, not enough detail. But Urahara probably doesn’t need the details. Nor right now. Ichigo winces as wide grey eyes stare at him in incomprehension.

“Yoruichi-san… is… dead?” His voice is barely louder than a breath.

“I am so sorry, Urahara-san. There was nothing we could do.”

The emergency supplies bags are right by the door, and Ichigo thanks all their combined paranoia as he hoists them over his shoulder. “We have to go. We shouldn’t stay here, not when the enemy knows where we are.”

Karin packs the last of the maps, grabbing all the bags. Ready to go.

But Urahara stands there, frozen in shock.

They don’t have  _ time _ for this.

“We have to go, Urahara-san. Now.”

A scream echoes from outside the pub. And abruptly cuts off.

Orihime. Shit.

Ichigo runs out the door.

Orihime is gone- but there’s a group of the sick, plague-ridden, blood-weeping people with their backs to him, straggling back to the alley they had emerged from. Retreating? Or following? 

Something glitters on the ground, in the pool of blood. Hairpins. He has to go after her, he has to- And there’s still two more people in his charge,  _ here _ . How does he choose, how the  _ hell  _ does he choose who to save.

From how much blood was split- If she’s alive, then she’s infected. And they have no idea how fast the disease takes hold. No idea if Orihime still has the power to reverse her own injuries.

Two versus one who is possibly not even alive. 

He has to be  _ pragmatic _ about his. Has to be. Even if it hurts. Because even his own determination seems to mean  _ nothing _ in this place. He can’t just- get Bankai, or manifest another bullshit ability out of thin air.

Maybe this place is the karmic payout for all that.

Mechanical whirring and clicking echoes from a distance. 

Clockwork soldiers. 

Lots of them.

Orihime is probably dead. Or will be soon. Karin and Urahara aren’t, and won’t be if he does something. Now.

Silently, the two follow him to the boat.

It wobbles a bit as they settle in, pushing the backs under the benches, and set off. Ichigo worries for a second about it not being sound enough for three of them. They’ve only tested it with two people and supplies. But at least they know not to worry about the fish or any water monsters.

They’re a ways out by the time they can see the clockworks reach the pub, and go in, breaking the doors. The largest clockwork soldier that they’ve seen so far, starts spouting  _ flames  _ at the pub. And then the surrounding buildings. 

Trying to smoke them out? 

Well, he’s sure damn glad that they hadn’t tried hiding on a roof until the clockworks left. Not with how hungrily, how quickly the flames consume the houses.

Being on the water in daylight – or, well, sunset - still feels too exposed, even if there don’t seem to be any water monsters bent on attacking them. 

But they should be safe.  _ They should be safe. _

Ichigo’s arms ache from the strain of rowing the boat, but he doesn’t mention it. Urahara is perched by the prow, Benihime gripped so tightly his knuckles are white. His hands are shaking.

Karin is pale and silent.

The other shore doesn’t seem to be getting any closer- right up until the boat bumps into the docs, and Ichigo suddenly realises they’ve arrived at the abandoned docs on the opposite side of the river. They’re not in good repair, planks creaking, the smell of wet, rotting wood everywhere. Clearly, people haven’t been around for a while.

But there is a distinct lack of the odd odour of  _ decay _ that hung on the other shore, that Ichigo only realises was there now that he can’t smell it.

Perhaps the- rats, the plague never reached this side of the city.

The nearest house, however abandoned and old it looks, is not actually falling apart, and its open door is simply unlocked, not  _ broken _ .

Ichigo cautiously leads the way inside, leaving Karin to bolt the door shut behind the three of them. The wallpaper is faded, and peeling, but there don’t seem to be any signs of corpses. No smell of death. No faint squeaking of a rat horde. And by this point, that’s good enough for him. 

The stairs groan loudly, as he explores the house floor by floor, Zangetsu ready for any unexpected surprises, Urahara and Karin waiting downstairs with the supplies. 

There’s an empty, dark kitchen; a chilly living room with open, but unbroken windows; several bedrooms that smell  _ dusty _ but are otherwise perfectly clean and untouched; and the water in the washrooms  _ works,  _ looking, smelling, and tasting fine. There’s an office with a small library that might hold some useful information. 

Urahara follows him when Ichigo goes to check out the cellar. 

Damn places always tend to have nasty surprises.

But the cellar here doesn’t hold any unwelcome surprises like rats, either – in fact, there’s a store of various bottles, soda and alcohol both. Food and disinfectant, that’s good. 

“Kurosaki-san. Look.” 

Ichigo blinks, and turns around.

There’s  _ weapons _ . Guns, ammunition, a pile of throwing knives, a whole assortment of grenades and what looks like… some sort of spring traps? 

“I think I may be able to check that they’re all functional- and fix them, if they are not. And- these might draw a more attention if we use them in combat, but-” Urahara pauses to take a deep breath. Then continues. “Grenades can probably destroy clockworks better than we can, with less chance of injury to us. Guns… It’s been a while, but I think I should be able to aim at the clockwork’s powerpacks and not miss. Or at the witches. It isn’t a sniper rifle, but it’ll do.”

Refusing the urge to whistle, Ichigo instead says “You know how to  _ shoot? _ ”

Urahara smiles wryly. “I know a great many things. LIke the fact that the lightswitch here doesn’t work. The wiring’s in the house is pretty patchy, maybe- or maybe it’s the age of the place.”

“Yeah. Well, it works in the study. And in the bedroom next to it. Which me and Karin will be taking.”

“Well- I’ll find a lamp then, work here during the night. You two should go rest.”

Ichigo raises his eyebrows. “Leave you hear to work on  _ potentially explosive things _ , when you are tired, and only have a lamp to light the place?”

He opens his mouth. And shuts it, lost for words.

“Urahara-san, if you’re that desperate for work, I’m sure you can get started on trawling through the books in the study. After you eat dinner.”

“You may have a point.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go back up. Karin’s probably already finished poking around the kitchen for plates - let’s go eat that brined hagfish and pickle combo that well hate.”

He’s alive, Karin is still alive, and so is Urahara. Hopefully he can keep it that way.

 

* * *

 

 

With just the three of them, instead of five, the food supplies they brought can last them about a week and half a, Ichigo figures. If they ration them and conserve energy, that is. The supplies they found in the kitchen, if they’re still not past their expiration date – the place might  _ look _ old, but the couple of whale meat cans that they opened were still fine – that can last them a full week, at least, plus a few days with their own supplies.

On the evening third day of chilling out at the house and reading through books, Ichigo goes downstairs to check on Urahara’s progress.

“Well, Kurosaki-san, I am almost ninety percent sure that these traps and grenades will work when they are supposed to.”

“Only ninety?”

“If you can get me more materials - or better yet, the blueprints for these models - I can make it more certain that they’ll work. Alas, blueprints are unlikely to be found anywhere close to here. Still - it is time to start exploring the surrounding houses very,  _ very _ thoroughly.”

“I am not staying here with him.” Karin glares at him, and then lowers her voice. “Urahara-san is nice, and I know he’s a good fighter, but- You’ve seen him. You’ve seen  _ his damn state _ . Do you think he even slept at  _ all _ the past few days?”

“Okay, then- then I’ll stay here, with you, and I’ll ask Urahara-san to go alone- I don’t even know what the parts and blueprints are supposed to look like. I can’t get him what he needs.”

“Yeah, and how long do you think he’ll last out there  _ alone _ ? I’m pretty sure he’s only sticking around because of us. To protect us. Probably still feeling guilty because of that Aizen crap.”

Unfortunately, she has a point.

 

* * *

 

 

Ichigo really, really doesn’t like that Karin has to go with them, but there’s no choice. He can’t leave her undefended, can’t go alone, and can’t let Urahara go alone.

This side of the city seems to be free of clockworks and the plague, at least, and maybe it makes Ichigo’s heart skips a beat every time they’re out and something makes a noise, but it’s always fine. It’s  _ all _ fine, he tells himself, as they walk through yet another empty alleyway, mapping the streets. There really, really doesn’t seem to be  _ anything _ out here.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks. Two weeks of carefully going through every house, combing through every drawer, bringing back what they can to the base.

Hours spent trawling through books for more information and getting only  _ crap _ , getting history of rulers and conquests and wars and nothing about dangers in the city or dimensional travel or anything useful.

_ “History of the Pear Soda? Who’d even read this crap? Why would anyone want to know?” _

_ “Now, now, Kurosaki-san. Perhaps someone was very interested in trivia.” _

_ “A right bore, then.” _

Two weeks when they all slowly start cracking jokes again.

_ “I wonder if the electricity wall can be set to a lower setting? So that if you toss rats through it, they just get deep fried?” _

_ “You know, if I ever had a rat problem, I’d probably have made robots to hunt them down too.” _

_ “I’d just hire an exterminator.” _

_ “A robot exterminator?” _

Two weeks of peace.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re going further into the city now, instead of prowling right by the shore, walking through small, cramped alleyways.

Ichigo’s left hand aches, even after the earlier painkiller. The cuts from that goddamn trap in the abandoned black market shop ended up being pretty deep, and the blood keeps leaking through bandages. Urahara had muttered something about poison and anticoagulants, and told Ichigo to not worry about it much.

As long as he doesn’t use his hand much.

The twisting alleyways lead to a small square, eventually - not one that they’ve been at before, Ichigo hopes, because that would mean they’ve gotten lost again.

Flickering light is the first thing that catches Ichigo’s eyes. Candles. Dozens of burning yellow candles, arranged in large concentric circles, interspersed with stones and glowing arcane symbol. An incredibly lifelike statue of a tall woman stands proudly in the middle, her stone features sharp. 

He cautiously walks closer to stare up at her, taking care not to step on the candles or stones or symbols.

She looks proud, cold, derisive.

Like some sort of uncaring  _ goddess _ .

This all is… an altar of some kind. A place of worship.

And  _ burning _ candles… must mean someone’s nearby. Somewhere. To keep this shrine maintained.

Something about it gives Ichigo a bad,  _ bad _ feeling. He’s about to suggest that they leave, gesturing at the others to go back, when a few drops of blood drip through the bandage on his left hand. And fall. And touch a symbol. 

And then every symbol on the ground  _ flares _ with light.

Fuck.

The statue starts to move, shedding a layer of grey dust as it turns partially colourful, as though becoming flesh and blood. The flowers on the collar of her shirt come alive, writhing and shifting, before settling down. She must be a witch, like the ones from the bridge. Or possibly their leader, even, judging from the altar devoted to her. A witch-queen?

“Who are you to trespass in my domain?” For all that her voice is light and airy, Ichigo’s instincts are screaming at him to  _ run _ .

“Apologies, it was not our  _ intent _ to trespass. We shall take our leave at once,“ Urahara says calmly, his tone apologetic, even as he gives a deep, reverent bow in the direction of the witch, and gestures for Ichigo and Karin to do the same. Ichigo frowns and raises an eyebrow at him. How could they do that, seeing as there were no markers whatsoever to the entrance to the witch’s territory? How can they know that they are far away  _ enough _ ?

“I care not for  _ intent _ , only for the  _ result _ .” Her voice suddenly turns cold and sour. “This is your second instance of trespass, and in the first, you dared to kill those of my coven. The sentence for these crimes… death.”

She waves a hand, and Ichigo barely ducks i time to avoid the spray of dark spikes that erupt from it, sinking deep into the stone road around him. 

Zangetsu deflects the next lot of spikes, cutting the last one in half in mid-air.

Ichigo can hear Karin scream out in fright.

Shit.

He has a more urgent to deal with. Vines burst _from_ _the_ _stone road_ , forming into large, weird as fuck plants that _lash_ at him, sharp leaves and edges apparently trying to shred him.

Ichigo manages to leap out of the way. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Urahara flinging jets of red energy from his sword, the dark red almost  _ ripping _ through the air, trying to keep the witch’s attention. Giving him and Karin time to run.  

The witch  _ vanishes _ in a swirl of darkness just as one of the red lines is about to pierce her. Ichigo doesn’t have time to wonder where she went.

Karin screams out again. He turns,  _ just in time _ to see the witch throw her hand out at Karin. Power bursts out like a wave, making the air  _ shiver _ , and Karin freezes where she stands. No, not freezes. 

She turns to  _ stone _ , skin and clothes and hair greying out.

A flash of silver makes the witch’s head turn. A throwing knife.

Ichigo takes the opportunity and  _ lunges. _

Zangetsu plunges through her heart. The witch- or the possessed statue of her, rather- shatters into shards and dust.

Ichigo curses. The chances of her being actually  _ dead _ , are probably zero, aren’t they.

Slowly, he turns around to walk over to Karin. She looks just like she did in that final moment, caught mid-movement. And now gone. 

He hopes it didn’t hurt. 

This is too much. Far too much. He can’t even feel anything. Not even grief. Just numbness. Resignation. 

Maybe the curse- maybe it’s reversible. But why would it be?

And if it is. They don’t have magic. Just killing the witch- and all her cronies first… that’s gonna be impossible, and probably wouldn’t undo the curse. If it’s even undoable at all.

“Where… where do we go now, Kurosaki-san?” Urahara’s tired voice cuts through the fog in his mind. “We can’t stay here. If she’s alive, then she, or more likely, her servants, will come back. And we can’t fight them all. One, two, five- maybe. Not dozens. Not as we are.”

Ichigo nods, slowly.

They might as well leave now. He wouldn’t care if he stayed and died, honestly. But the others wouldn’t want him to die, too. They’d want them to get out. Somehow.

“Let’s just try to leave this district. Maybe we can get to the river, find the docs and a boat in good repairs, see if we can leave that way…See where the river takes us.” Urahara’s voice trails off. Maybe he’s realised that Ichigo doesn’t care. 

Maybe he doesn’t really care himself, either. 

Except. Except Urahara’s _alive_ , he’s _not_ dead yet, and _damn it_ if Ichigo would let _him_ die, too. If all he can do is protect just _one_ _person_ , then, fuck everything else, he’s going to manage to do that. To hell with everything that gets in the way. At least one person is going to get out.

“Yeah. Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I BET YOU ALL THOUGHT I WAS DEAD  
> but I'm not  
> i'm just like this
> 
> Hope you had fun!!! tell me what you think of it!!
> 
> And things are going to get better next chapter.   
> Or at least, that's one way to look at that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Feedback and comments are lovely, and would be much appreciated!
> 
> If all goes... anywhere, there should be an update every weekend, at the least.


End file.
